


A Night's Eternity

by faikitty



Category: X -エックス- | X/1999
Genre: Blow Jobs, Christmas Fluff, Christmas Presents, Christmas Smut, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, Fluffy Ending, Hand Jobs, M/M, Neck Kissing, No Plot/Plotless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, that gives you an idea of all the fluff in this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 21:39:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13443945
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/faikitty/pseuds/faikitty
Summary: Sometimes, they can relax. CLAMP Secret Santa 2017.





	A Night's Eternity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [QueenTzahra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/QueenTzahra/gifts).



> A week late, because graduate school is a nightmare.
> 
> The prompt was "Subaru and Kamui spending Christmas Eve together, ALL the love! How fluffy or sexy (or both!) you make it is totally up to you!"

Subaru shows up at Kamui’s at 8 o’clock on Christmas Eve, just like he was asked to.

He doesn’t know why he’s there.

He should have figured it out, all things considered. It _is_ Christmas Eve, after all, and he and Kamui rarely set specific times to be at each other’s homes. Still, he doesn’t even consider the fact that Kamui would want to spend Christmas with him, and the younger man’s text wasn’t especially informative. “Be at my apartment at 8 o’clock on Saturday.” That’s all it said. So Subaru shows up, emptyhanded, at 8 o’clock and is greeted by a loud crash and a flurry of motion from behind the door when he knocks. Kamui shows up at the door half a minute later, red-faced and hair a mess.

“I lost track of time,” Kamui says as he ushers Subaru in out of the winter chill. It’s not an explanation, but the small puddle of red liquid and shattered glass shoved into a corner makes Subaru lift a brow. Kamui heads into the living area and stands there, unusually fidgety. Subaru admires the decorations on the walls, the holly and lights and wreathes all around, and that’s when he realizes—

 _Oh_.

He’s an _idiot_.

“I never really celebrated Christmas,” Kamui explains when Subaru looks at him in surprise, sitting on the couch with his hands in his lap and his shoulders drawn up to his ears. “I never had a chance. Never got what the big deal was anyway. But everyone at school talks about the presents they’re buying people and the food they’ll eat and stupid stuff like that. And I’ve had to listen to the girls talk about how excited they are to spend time over the holidays with their boyfriends, which was annoying to listen to, but the more I thought about it the more it seemed like, yeah, that _might_ actually be kinda nice, I guess, but if you think it’s dumb I can—”

Subaru cuts off his rambling the one way he knows will work: with a kiss. He kneels in front of Kamui, takes the younger man’s burning cheeks in his hands, and pulls him forward until their lips just barely touch. “It’s not dumb,” he tells Kamui when he leans back a few inches to meet his eyes. “I haven’t celebrated Christmas since—well, my last one was a decade ago. This sounds nice.”

Kamui’s hard-lined pout melts into relief, quickly replaced by a small frown and blatant embarrassment as he drags his eyes up and away from Subaru’s. He stands abruptly; Subaru tips back onto his heels to keep from being knocked over. His hand slides down Kamui’s arm until he’s barely holding onto his fingertips. Then Kamui pulls his hand away to cradle to his elbow, his other hand against his chin in consideration. “I don’t actually… know what you _do_ at Christmas,” he admits. “The kids at school just kept talking about food and presents and getting wasted. So I got five bottles of wine, if you think that’ll be enough? Although I guess there are only four now. And I did _try_ to make food, but none of it really… turned out. There’s takeout in the fridge.”

“What about presents?” Subaru teases, and Kamui glances briefly down at him then toward the other room.

“Presents. Yeah,” Kamui says distantly. He disappears briefly and returns with two bottles of wine, one in each hand, and Subaru is fairly certain those are _not_ his presents. Subaru doesn’t ask where he got them; he isn’t sure he wants to know. He _is_ about to ask where the glasses are when Kamui pops the cork out of one and proceeds to drink nearly half the bottle at once. The younger man coughs as he pulls it away, wiping his lips with a grimace and glaring at the label on the bottle. “I thought wine was supposed to taste better than that,” he complains. He thrusts the other bottle toward Subaru; the older man blinks and shakes his head with a sigh but takes it.

“Normally people drink it more slowly,” Subaru says. “As well as from glasses.”

“I didn’t have any,” Kamui replies with a second long swig. He doesn’t wince as much this time. “This is more efficient anyway.”

“Drinking wine isn’t usually _supposed_ to be done ‘efficiently.’ You’re going to make yourself sick.”

Kamui shrugs and takes another drink, finally doing something approximating _sipping_ the wine—or as close as can be done straight from a bottle. Subaru sighs again and does the same with his as Kamui protests, “I’ll be _fine_.” After a pause, he adds, sheepishly, “do you want to eat?”

Kamui really did _try_ Subaru realizes as he rises to his feet and allows Kamui to lead him into the kitchen. A table is set up in the middle, small and flimsy enough that it nearly topples over when Kamui sets the wine on it with too heavy a hand. But it’s _quaint_ , covered in a white tablecloth that, upon closer inspection, is revealed to be plastic, a handful of lit candles in green and red casting flickering shadows on the bowls and plates— _real_ bowls and plates, ironically, Subaru notices. In the center rests a scarlet poinsettia that Kamui hastily moves upon realizing he needs that space for the boxes of takeout.

And so Subaru sits, and Kamui sits, and together they spoon cheap noodles and rice onto their plates and eat quietly, Subaru occasionally interrupting Kamui’s still inappropriately large gulps of wine with questions: how was school, do you have tests coming up, how long did it take you to set up all of these lights, should I pay you back for the alcohol?

All mundane.

It’s as if _they_ are mundane people, living mundane lives, even though nothing could be farther from the truth. But for tonight, at least, they can pretend. Subaru watches Kamui answer his questions, growing levels alcohol in his system spurring the younger man on until the food is forgotten in favor of an animated retelling of a fight that broke out in the hall at school the other day. He laughs as he recalls how the professor went to break it up and they all heard a loud _smack_ before the teacher returned with a budding bruise on his cheek.

Subaru could watch him for hours.

But they don’t have hours, because even this night will end, and Kamui has begun to realize how loud he’s being and is growing quieter. “So, what is my present?” Subaru finally asks once Kamui has stopped talking and his belly is so full of bad food that he can’t eat another bite. “Or do I have to guess?”

Kamui polishes off the bottle and extinguishes the candle flames before standing, somewhat wobbly, and stumbling back to the living room. Subaru, amused, follows the younger man, still sipping from the plastic cup he retrieved so he wouldn’t have to drink straight from the bottle, just enough wine in him to feel pleasantly tipsy. When he reaches the room, Kamui is sitting on the couch again, running his fingers over a small box in silence and staring at the red ribbon sloppily tied around it. He pats the cushion next to him and waits until Subaru takes a seat, brimming with curiosity, to open it.

Inside the box is a small ring.

The ring is made of some metal, iron maybe, plain and nondescript. A chain lies coiled beneath it, and Kamui slips it over Subaru’s head without making eye contact. Subaru picks it up, the metal smooth and cold on his fingertips. On the inside of the band he sees written his own words—no, words that aren’t his but his _sister’s_ —“come back.”

“I wasn’t sure what your ring size was so I figured you could keep it around your neck instead. You don’t even have to take it though,” Kamui mutters, twisting his fingers together while he stares pointedly at the ring and only the ring. “I’m not asking you to marry me or anything. Just to, you know… stay. Stay with me at least until this is over. This is just to remind you to: ‘come back.’”

It takes Subaru a moment to find his voice.

Inside his head, he can hear his sister, her words, pitched high and strained with pain, trying desperately to break him from his dissociative state, and he can hear _himself_ , calmer, lower, trying to bring Kamui back from the brink of loss. The words are now carved out in metal; he can run his fingers over the letters and feel the rough edges on his skin. “…thank you,” he says, impossibly softly, finally tearing his eyes from the letters that look back at him to Kamui’s face, drawn tight with anticipation.

The younger man visibly relaxes and shakes his head. “Don’t thank me. Just… tell me you’ll stay.”

“I will.” Subaru drops the ring and leans in to kiss Kamui, letting his hands go to rest on the younger man’s shoulders. Kamui closes his eyes immediately, leans in just as hard and harder, and Subaru has to push back to say, “I’m sorry I don’t have anything for you.”

Kamui smirks. “You can make it up to me,” he suggests, pressing another kiss to Subaru’s lips.

“I will,” Subaru promises, so he’s surprised when Kamui blinks, startled.

“I was kidding,” Kamui protests, and Subaru lifts a brow. “Although,” he adds, “you _can_. If you _want_.”

Subaru grins to himself and leans in to kiss Kamui lightly once more. “I want to.” Subaru _doesn’t_ want to coerce, is constantly aware of their age difference and just how _easy_ it would be for him to seem like a predator. But Kamui bites his lower lip, his lashes dip, and he moves in, his arms wrapping around Subaru’s shoulders, broader than his, so that he has to press their bodies together to lift himself forward into Subaru’s touch. Subaru kisses back, breathes in the oak and honey in the wine still dyeing Kamui’s lips red like holly as they part in a shallow breath, and when Subaru lets his tongue slip between those berry bright lips he tastes the rough edges of Kamui’s teeth and the softness of his tongue. Subaru’s hand goes to the back of Kamui’s neck, where hair meets skin and where his touch brings up gooseflesh, to bring Kamui in closer still, his thumb resting on the edge of Kamui’s throat to feel the quickening thrum of his pulse. His other hand curls in at Kamui’s waist, fingers playing just beneath the hem of his shirt then turning to slide up, up over his abdomen to rest faintly against his chest.

Subaru ducks lower. He follows the line of Kamui’s still-parted lips down to his jaw, then lower still, replacing his thumb on Kamui’s pulse point with his mouth, teeth bared to bruise his throat, his collarbone, the crook of his neck. Subaru feels the quiver beneath his lips as Kamui takes a deep, shuddering breath and arches into the touch, and the hand of his chest turns to pull free the buttons on Kamui’s shirt. He weights his fingertips against the center of Kamui’s chest and pushes with just enough force to knock Kamui off-balance. The younger man lands on his back on the couch and rises up onto his elbows, waiting, as Subaru tugs off his own shirt, the ring slipping beneath his collar to stay around his neck, its weight a light but constant reminder.

Kamui’s eyes are bright when the cloth has passed over Subaru’s eyes, his face flushed deep as the wine and gaze slightly unfocused but still _bright_ , burning like the sky at dusk moments after the sun has dipped below the horizon, and they’re fixed on Subaru, traveling over his body like a Renaissance Master studying the subject of a painting, over scars from various battles that mirror his own, then landing on the silver ring around Subaru’s neck.

He says nothing. He never does.

Neither does Subaru. Instead, he leans back in to kiss Kamui, and that says enough. The ring trails a shock of cold over Kamui’s skin, making him shiver beneath Subaru. Subaru drops a hand as he presses in and down on Kamui, feeling him arch up against the thigh slotted between his legs, and runs his hand over Kamui’s abdomen, lets his fingers play at the edge of Kamui’s waistband.

“So,” Kamui breathes when he has the chance, “are you just going to kiss me all night?”

Subaru simply kisses him one last time rather than responding then trails kisses down, rough enough to be sweet, going back over the bruises he left then over Kamui’s abdomen. Kamui isn’t given the chance to speak, only to blurt a soft “ _oh_ ” before Subaru has undone his pants and taken him in his mouth. The younger man’s hands go immediately to fist in Subaru’s short hair, fingers tight but still careful not to _pull_ , even though Subaru wouldn’t _mind_. He’s almost amused at how much more polite Kamui is being while he’s drunk, but then Kamui _does_ tug and Subaru nearly laughs at the realization that this polite version isn’t going to last. He _hopes_ it doesn’t, at least.

Subaru slides his mouth up, lets his lips hang at the edge just long enough to make Kamui look up at him, worry on his face as if he’s somehow done something wrong, then leans back in, passes his mouth over Kamui’s length and watches as the intensity in the younger man’s eyes dulls, cock swelling in Subaru’s mouth. Subaru has to pull back some, noting the way Kamui’s fingers tighten nearly imperceptibly in his hair as he does so, the younger man’s head falling back. Subaru drags his tongue back up and over him and one of Kamui’s hands falls away, reaching up over his head to grab the fabric of the couch beneath him, and Subaru ducks in, lets his cheeks hollow as he takes Kamui into the back of his throat, and finds a rhythm there, ignoring the tears that prick his eyes as he chokes. He doesn’t _care_ ; he lets himself swallow Kamui’s cock down, over the slick friction of his tongue into his throat until he’s able to breathe only through his nose and barely that, nostrils flared as the tip of his nose nearly touches Kamui’s abdomen. Subaru tastes salt on his tongue as he flattens it against Kamui’s length, and this time when he pulls back Kamui’s fingers twist into his hair and urge him back again, but he resists, licking over the head of Kamui’s cock and closing his lips there until Kamui rocks forward, flat of his palm resting on Subaru’s forehead, half pushing him away and half pulling him back in. And Subaru relents, ducks back until his nose is buried against Kamui’s skin and his eyes are closed tight against tears as he returns to the previous pace. Then Kamui is pulling at his hair, his abdomen tensing and thighs shaking against Subaru’s shoulders, breath a sharp hiss, and he’s murmuring a warning “ _Subaru_ ” even as his hands keep Subaru pinned to him. But Subaru doesn’t care because he’s hollowing his cheeks and sucking in then choking, choking as Kamui spills hot down his throat and swallowing it down until Kamui pushes him away with shaky hands.

Subaru wipes his mouth as he rises, only to be immediately pulled into an embrace by Kamui, who kisses his still sticky lips without a care. He starts to pull back, starts to stand so he can leave to take care of himself since this was for _Kamui_ , after all, but Kamui doesn’t let him. Instead, he climbs into Subaru’s lap, straddling him as he kisses him deeper. “Your turn.”

“It’s fine, really—” Subaru tries to protest, but Kamui pays him no mind. He dips down to kiss the rough of his jaw and the sharp edge of his collarbone, hand winding down to slide beneath Subaru’s waistband and draw out the shape of him, already half-hard from the friction of his own thighs as he sucked Kamui off. Kamui has found his place, tucked against the curve of Subaru’s body, mouth pressed to his neck and his palm on his cock, fingers ghosting around the shape while Subaru _tries_ to pretend he was serious, that it _is_ fine for this _not_ to happen. But he can’t seem to do so, instead straining up into Kamui’s grasp while the younger man’s lips curve up in a smile on the crook of his neck. Subaru lets his head fall back with a groan, eyes closing as his breath comes harder and harder and catches on a moan when Kamui thumbs over the head of his cock. Kamui settles into a jerky rhythm, too drunk for smooth motions but his pace still languorously slow, slow enough that Subaru is about to tell him to go _faster_ when he realizes he’s going to come like this, is _about_ to come like this. Kamui hums against his skin, pleased, as Subaru takes a ragged breath, his fingers locked around Subaru’s cock to pull up while Subaru shifts, hands clutching at Kamui’s shoulders as he rocks forward into the pressure. The whole of his body tenses in anticipation. Subaru comes with a barely restrained moan, well before he expected to, quickly enough that it’s almost embarrassing.

Kamui plants another kiss on Subaru’s lips as the older man catches his breath. This time, he’s the one who cups Subaru’s cheeks in his palms, and when he’s drawn up into the kiss Subaru can feel him smiling still.

“I’m sorry my present was less meaningful than yours,” Subaru murmurs when he can breathe steadily again, resting his forehead against Kamui’s to gaze into his eyes.

Kamui snorts. “Doesn’t matter. I enjoyed it.” His words are clearer now, less slurred, and Subaru can’t tell if the flush still on his cheeks is from embarrassment or the Christmas lights strung up around the room. Embarrassment, he decides when Kamui breaks the eye contact and rises to draw up his pants and shrug back into his shirt. Kamui ruffles his hair self-consciously and pretends not to watch as Subaru tugs his sweater back over his head, but he still slides back down and into Subaru’s arms when they open in invitation.

The scene would be made complete if Kamui had a roaring fire going to warm and light the room, but the small apartment has no fireplace, so instead of watching flames lick over burning logs, Subaru gazes at the young man nestled in his arms. Kamui, back pressed against Subaru, is asleep almost immediately, something Subaru _knows_ he’ll be embarrassed and annoyed by when he wakes, but Subaru is glad to let him sleep. His face is smudged into shadows by the colorful Christmas lights; they make his cheeks look even more hollowed than they are in reality, his face all sharp lines and rough edges. The dark circles beneath his eyes, permanent bruises on his face from life giving him beatings, are no better than they were the last time Subaru saw him. But still, he’s beautiful, even with his sharp as glass features and harrowed eyes. Subaru wonders if he knows that; even if Subaru _said_ he was beautiful, Kamui would just brush him off as he does with all words, regardless of whether they’re compliments or insults.

Kamui shifts. He moves so Subaru can no longer see his eyes, just the gentle curves of his lips and the tip of his nose, dark hair obscuring the rest of his view. “Hey. It’s snowing.”

So. Not asleep. It’s so rare to see Kamui this calm and relaxed that Subaru mistook his closed eyes for sleep. He turns his head to look out the window, and Kamui is right. It _is_ snowing, big, powdery white flakes outlined by the streetlights outside. “It is,” Subaru agrees. He opens his mouth again, the words he _wants_ to say a ghost on the tip of his tongue, but they catch in his throat and he stays silent.

“I love you.”

He _hears_ the words a second later, so soft and airy that Subaru wonders for a heartbeat if he accidentally said them after all. Then he realizes they were in Kamui’s voice, his thin form rigid in his arms and the words half-nerve and half-resignation, like no matter how Subaru reacted he couldn’t keep from saying them anymore.

Subaru smiles to himself and buries his face in Kamui’s hair, letting his arms tighten around the younger man. “I love you too,” he breathes. Subaru feels him go even stiffer then relax all at once, Kamui’s body shaking as he laughs, breath catching in his throat. “Did you think I was going to say I hate you?”

“I don’t know,” Kamui admits, stilling, the linger strain of emotion in his voice. “Maybe.”

“No,” Subaru repeats. “I love you.” For that, he gets an elbow to the gut, but his wounded “ow” is so pathetic that he feels Kamui laugh again. “…Merry Christmas.”

Kamui sighs, then, pleased contentment behind the breath. “Yeah. Merry Christmas.”

They fall asleep like that, bodies of broken young men made whole in each other’s embrace. Subaru watches the snow fall for a few more minutes, Kamui sleeping soundly in his arms, until he, too, falls asleep.

The night may be short, their lives barely longer, but as long as they can stay like this, it will feel like eternity.


End file.
